Visiting Hours
by PK Samurai
Summary: [One-shot] Visiting hours are from two to six.


****A/N: ****This is for the writing challenge by geekinthepink23, prompt "serenading Miyuki Kazuya." It is set after the Yakushi vs Seido game in the Fall tournament finals (manga only).

* * *

**Visiting Hours**

[one-shot]

* * *

"_**Third floor – Pediatrics.**_"

"Ow! Watch where yer steppin'!"

"Shhh!"

"Guys, stop, this isn't the right floor – "

"Whose foot was that? I'll slam you!"

"What room is he in again?"

"I feel hot..."

"Shhh! This is a _**hospital!**_"

"You're being the loudest of us all, Eijun-kun..."

"_**Fifth floor – Rehabilitation.**_"

"Um...we're supposed to get off here."

A group of boys, clad in white and blue baseball uniforms, tumbled tumultuously out of the elevator, attracting the scandalous stares of everyone else – nurses and patients alike – in the vicinity. Heedless of their stares, a boy with unkempt brown hair looked rapidly around at the crowded hallway with an increasingly impatient look on his face.

"We have to hurry," said Eijun agitatedly, gnashing his teeth. "What if he dies before we get there?"

"No one's gonna die, Sawamura," retorted Kuramochi, sharply kicking the younger boy's legs for good measure.

"As if I'd let 'im," Zono added with a fierce look.

"They said he's pretty stabilized by now," said Haruichi, patting his friend on the arm reassuringly. "That's why they're letting in visitors outside of family now."

"His room's this way," said Shirasu, pointing down the other end of the hallway, and without any further dispute, the boys of Seidō's first string scuttled after him.

When they reached the room which's number matched what was written on the card Rei had passed to them, a young nurse in pink uniform was just stepping out. Upon seeing how many of them were there – eleven, exactly – a curious look of both surprise and relief flashed across her plump face.

"You must be Kazuya's friends...there are so many of you!" she exclaimed, after introducing herself as Nurse Azusa. "I'm glad – Kazuya hasn't had any visitors yet, the poor thing."

"Not even his family?" Eijun asked in disbelief. If he'd been the one who passed out in a game and got hospitalized, his parents and his grandpa would've been waiting by his bedside even before he woke up (the train ride from Nagano to Tokyo took less than three hours).

But Nurse Azusa shook her head, her short hair rustling against her cheeks.

"Mr. Miyuki was too busy to make it here. He called to authorize someone named Ms. Takashima in signing papers for Kazuya's operation, but..." Trailing off with a faintly rueful look, she looked around at the boys and bit her lip. "I'm sorry – I can't possibly let all of you in together. You'll have to take turns." She looked down at a thin wristwatch on her arm. "Visiting hours are almost over, but you should all have enough time." Turning around, she opened the door wide enough to stick her head inside the room. "Kazuya sweetie, you've got visitors – your friends from the baseball team are here to see you. Is that okay?"

There must have been a positive response of some sort, for she pulled back and closed the door carefully. With a fond and encouraging nod at them, Nurse Azusa walked briskly away, leaving the boys staring first at the closed hospital door, and then at each other.

After a brief silence, someone cleared his throat. "So...who goes first?"

* * *

The ever-present cloying smell of disinfectant that wouldn't go away even with his nose pinched shut. The faded white paint of the twin walls and the dull stainless steel cabinets that lined the indented space between the beds. The queer sensation of hearing an analog clock ticking in the distance, when in fact there was only a digital clock on the bedside table. And the stifling awareness that everything was not as it should be...

Kazuya did not like hospitals.

He had not liked it those many years ago, when he had been too young to understand what it meant to follow his father to see his mother in the cancer ward – too young to even remember with surety what his mother must have looked like then, having now only a photo of her right after giving birth to him, the last photo before she must have withered away into nothing.

And he did not like it now in his private room, where he reclined on his bed trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest and the unsettling feeling of being naked in his loose-fitting hospital gown. The temperature in his room was at optimal warmth, but for some odd reason, despite the thick comforter, he felt cold.

With his head settled somewhat comfortably against a multitude of thick pillows, he had just been about to finally drop off to sleep when he heard the door creak open. It was just as well he was facing the door, for he did not think he could gather the energy to bother turning his head to see who it was – and it was his nurse, a well-intentioned but somewhat bumbling young woman who liked to fuss over him.

"Kazuya sweetie, you've got visitors – " she said, and Kazuya felt his heart begin to painfully beat faster, as he wondered wildly if his father had arrived, but then she added, "Your friends from the baseball team are here to see you. Is that okay?"

Kazuya smiled, feeling his heart rate slow down to its usual steady tempo, and nodded. The door shut behind her, and after several long minutes – he'd begun to wonder whether these 'visitors' hadn't come for him after all, and had instead been searching for another person named 'Kazuya' – it opened again.

Only one person came in, and it was a boy with a mop of pink hair covering his eyes – the younger Kominato. Forcefully propping himself up on his elbows, Kazuya urged his body into an upright position against the bed's back frame.

"Hi Miyuki-senpai," the first-year started off, already turning scarlet.

"Hey, thank you for coming," said Kazuya, struggling to hide his confusion as to why the boy was there. They were teammates, sure, but he couldn't remember their ever having had even a single conversation together.

"Almost everyone in the first string is here," said Kominato almost apologetically, answering his question. "But the nurse said we could only see you individually. So I hope your operation goes well and that you get better soon. My brother and the other senpai also send their regards...they couldn't come today because of practice exams, but they said – err – Jun-senpai specifically said, that if the operation didn't kill you, he'd come kill you himself afterward."

"Well that's one thing to look forward to," said Kazuya drily, and then coughed, his voice hoarse from not having spoken in so long.

* * *

Right after the door closed behind Kominato, it opened again, and this time, with his hands in his pockets, Zono came lumbering in before coming to a stop at the foot of his bed. For several seconds, he stood there with his hard gaze fixed on the bed frame, as if it had in some way personally affronted him. Then, Zono pulled his hands out of his pockets – and then apparently not knowing what to do with them, he rubbed the back of his neck.

Resolving to not be the first one to give in, Kazuya stared back silently for some time, before the other boy finally cleared his throat.

"I'm still pissed y'know, that you kept it from us," Zono mumbled, still rubbing his neck. "I wanted to punch ya, but you were kinda passed out..."

Kazuya felt himself sweat. "Uh...well...thanks I guess – "

"But we all know you did it for the team. So – y'know – get better quick. The field ain't the same without ya, and we need our captain," his vice captain grunted, turning slightly red in embarrassment. "And that was a real compliment this time," he added pointedly.

Kazuya blinked. "Thanks."

* * *

The next person did not come in right away, and as he waited, Kazuya closed his eyes to rest them. The door opened and closed, but it was quiet for so long that when he opened them and saw Shirasu standing at the end of his bed with an unreadable look on his face, he instinctively jerked backwards. A jolt of hot pain surged from his chest, and clenching his teeth, he made a hissing sound.

"Don't push yourself," said Shirasu, immediately stepping forward. The strange look had fallen away to be replaced by a concerned one.

"Sorry – it'll pass," said Kazuya with another cough, holding a hand up and stopping the right fielder in his tracks. With a pained look on his face, Shirasu stared back. It was quiet for some time, and unlike with Zono, Kazuya knew this wasn't a battle he could win, so he opened his mouth again. "I'll get better. The operation won't be dangerous."

"We'll all be waiting," said Shirasu quietly.

* * *

When Furuya stepped – or rather, was pushed – into the room, Kazuya had to stop himself from shaking his head (for even the slightest motion could hurt his chest).

"Let me guess...'Miyuki-senpai, please get better soon so that you can continue catching for me,'" he droned in a passable imitation of the first-year. He grinned. "Am I right?"

Furuya paused, as if actually reviewing the words in his mind – and then nodded.

"Duly noted."

* * *

When Nori entered the room, he had such an injured and guilty look on his plump face that Kazuya found himself likening his image to a kicked puppy.

"Miyuki – " Nori started, his eyes downcast.

"It wasn't your fault," Kazuya said firmly. "I was injured in the previous match, remember?"

"If I hadn't pitched so poorly, the game could have ended earlier," said Nori anxiously. Kazuya opened his mouth to reply, but Nori shook his head firmly. "I'm not here to feel sorry for myself. I'm just saying – I wasn't able to do anything for the team or for you in that game, and I'll never forgive myself for it. But I'm training now, even harder than before, and when you get back, I'll more than make up for it with my pitches."

His voice had grown stronger, and the usually quiet and unassuming pitcher now stood straighter. He looked back at Kazuya, as if daring him to get up as well, and for a second, he wished he could.

* * *

After Higasa, there was another short pause before the door opened again – and when it did, the figure stepped in, closed the door behind him, and then didn't move, looking back at Kazuya with a hard look.

"Kuramochi," he said with what was a hopefully carefree grin.

"You really messed up," said Kuramochi casually, and he felt the grin fade from his face.

"I know."

"But I'm not here to give you shit for it. That's Rei's job."

"Thanks," said Kazuya, making a mental note not to ever mention around his vice captain how much he had been babied at the assistant coach's hands.

"Though you've basically volunteered to be my practice dummy for these new wrestling moves I've been working on."

Kazuya felt himself sweat again. "I thought you had Sawamura for that?"

"He's getting a holiday."

"Ah."

"So – get better already." Kuramochi kicked back at the wall with his heel. "I hate to admit it, but the team's not the same without you."

"The team's in your hands now," said Kazuya quietly.

"I'm not the captain," Kuramochi said shortly. "You are. That's why you're in this mess...and that's why you're gonna get out of it."

* * *

Just as Kuramochi left the room, the muffled sound of a song began to play behind the closed door. Taken aback, Kazuya closed his eyes, straining his ears to make out the tune – and as soon as he did, he recognized it, and he began to tap his hand against the bed frame with the rhythm.

"_Nerai uchi..._" he mouthed along at the right time.

Just then, the door opened and the music got louder. A boy with brown hair stepped in, holding what looked like a portable speaker; the music was playing from it. Kazuya felt his lips curl into an expectant smile. "Well well...if it isn't Sawamura."

"We...we got special permission to play it for just a short while," Sawamura explained, in a hesitant halting manner that felt unnatural coming from him. Stepping closer to the bed, he gestured unnecessarily to the speaker in his hand, where _Sharpshooter_ was still ongoing. "We brought it to cheer you on. And we got Kanemaru to bring his speakers, and – well, yea," he finished lamely.

"So you're my last visitor? They usually save the best for last, but in this case..." With his usual grin, Kazuya gleefully braced himself for the first-year's inevitably annoyed reaction – but to his surprise, it didn't happen. Instead, Sawamura's hands were clenched tightly at his sides, and as if his head were weighed down by something heavy, he looked down at his feet. His surprise giving way to bewilderment, Kazuya opened his mouth, wondering whether he had done something or whether he should ask the southpaw what was wrong, but before he could, Sawamura spoke.

"I asked to go last," he said.

"Didn't wanna see me that badly, huh?" Kazuya smirked, but Sawamura didn't take the bait.

"I didn't know what to say," he grounded out instead, a hint of frustration seeping into his tone. With one hand, he was gripping tightly onto the side of his pants, his knuckle beginning to turn white. "...so I thought I could come in and talk about the music we're playing. But I said it, and it only took five seconds."

"No one's ever going to mistake you for an orator, that's for sure," said Kazuya after a short pause. "Just say whatever's on your mind, Sawamura. That's how you've always done it, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I have, cos I suck at talking – so I'm just gonna spill it all out. And – well – why didn't I _know_?" Almost angrily, Sawamura raised his arm – the speaker still clutched tightly in his hand – to wipe at something in his eye with a sleeve, and Kazuya felt his eyes widen in alarm.

"Know what?"

"I was _there_. On the mound. I was – I was watching you the whole time. Everyone else on the team knew – so why didn't _I_ know you were hurt, when I was the closest to you on the field?"

"No one expected you to, Bakamura," said Kazuya. "You don't have to apologize."

"I'm not apologizing," said the first-year, the area around his eyes growing red. "I'm mortified. You're _my _catcher. And I didn't realize how much pain you were in. I was only thinking about myself. Even if I think back now, I still can't remember seeing you grimace or – look hurt – or _anything_. Not until the coach took you aside. Not until you collapsed."

"That's because I was hiding it," Kazuya pointed out.

"You don't understand," Sawamura said, his hands moving around agitatedly. "I came to Seidō because of you."

"No, you came because Rei scouted you," he said.

Sawamura shook his head. "I was going to turn down her offer. But then you caught for me, and I changed my mind."

"I'm honored," Kazuya said with a weak grin. Feeling something tense in his chest – as if something were squeezing his heart – he let out a hoarse cough. "But what's that have to do with – ?"

"I'm here because of _you_," Sawamura said, his voice beginning to catch on his words, and the redness spreading to his ears. "There is no Seidō without you, Miyuki-senpai. So why didn't I know? It's – it's not _fair_. I should have known. I wanted to know. And now you're here – and I'm here talking about myself again, and – wait a minute, are you in pain now? Are you okay? Should I get you something?"

Sawamura looked down at him with such a look of overwhelming concern that even though Kazuya opened his mouth to retort something back, his mind went blank. He didn't know what to say anymore.

So instead, he closed his mouth, and then reaching out with a hand – not minding in the slightest the stab of pain that raced through his chest as he did so – Kazuya grabbed the first-year by the wrist and tugged him in closer. Sawamura stumbled forward, and as he did so, Kazuya put his arm around the other boy's warm neck and pulled him down toward him. His heart pounded painfully, and when he felt Sawamura's hair brush against his face, he thought it would explode.

He had thought Sawamura would back away immediately, but he didn't. He had _expected_ Sawamura to back away with a flustered look on his face and a shout of indignation, and then Kazuya would laugh and the moment would be over. But he didn't, so Kazuya didn't laugh.

The song had ended what seemed like an eternity ago, fading away into a silence punctuated only by the sounds of their heavy breathing. He could feel Sawamura's heart beating loudly against his own chest.

Kazuya closed his eyes. It was warm in a way he couldn't remember experiencing ever before – or maybe he had as a child, back when he was too short to climb up on a hospital bed by himself, and too young to know what it meant to say 'goodbye.'

But of course, it couldn't last. After what could have been several days – or hours – or minutes – there was a sharp rap on the door, and Kazuya felt Sawamura shift in his hold. He opened his eye expectantly, but to his surprise, the first-year didn't back away. The door opened a crack, and someone – it sounded like the younger Kominato, but to Kazuya's relief, he didn't walk in – said, "Eijun-kun, visiting hours are over! We have to go."

"Okay," Sawamura called back, his breath coming out warmly against Kazuya's neck. And then finally, with utmost care, as if handling a fragile doll, the first-year stepped back out of his hold, and the sudden feeling of absence left him feeling cold and naked again. Something caught in Kazuya's throat, and though his chest was no longer bothering him, he felt as if he couldn't breathe.

But then Sawamura stopped and beamed, in that idiotic, bright and almost blinding manner that Kazuya had grown accustomed to without meaning to, and somehow, dazedly, he knew that this cold was only momentary and that there was oxygen in the room again.

"Visiting hours are from two to six," he said.

Sawamura laughed. "I know."


End file.
